


Chopping-Board Like

by laeb



Category: Actors RPF, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-08
Updated: 2004-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23160022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laeb/pseuds/laeb
Summary: Where Orli and Craig have to deal with unexpected issues.
Relationships: Orlando Bloom/Craig Parker





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Morm, who rocks my world *mwha!*  
Short notes:  
~ HAPPY BIRTHDAY DROW! Ok, so The Drow asked me a little less than a month ago to write her OrliCraig, with smut, angst and a happy ending. Here it finally is, in time for her birthday. Drow, hope you’ll enjoy the numerous winks I have made up just for you ;-)  
~ Expectations are high (from meself to meself) and chapters are short, but it will be updated often and will not last forever. Expect about 12 parts. Three-quarters of the thing is already written just so you guys know. Cheers!
> 
> Originally uploaded to various archives and my LJ during the winter of 2004. Retro-posted to AO3 in March 2020.

_You say, I only hear what I want to: I don’t listen hard, I don’t pay attention to the distance that you’re running or to anyone, anywhere. I don’t understand if you really care, I’m only hearing negative: no, no, no – bad._

Stay, Lisa Loeb

//SLAM!//

The door banged loudly, causing one of Viggo’s paintings to fall from the hall wall.

Orlando sighed heavily and leant his forehead on the window pane. This conversation should not have gone this way. In fact, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

Craig was gone. For good? He didn’t know. He hoped not. What was the reason for the fight already? They shouldn’t have shouted. They should have rejoiced at being together for the first time in months, should have been all over each other, like long-estranged lovers. Instead, they fought over some insipid bullshit, about seeing the hobbits or not for supper. Some were in town for the convention Craig was attending.

Moving away from the windowsill, Orlando went to the kitchen and filled a glass with water, washing his mouth from the acidic bile ascending from his stomach to his throat and his mouth. He wouldn’t piss himself to oblivion this time; he could already feel the sickness in his gut, the twitching in his stomach.

He walked up the stairs, watching the London night spreading in the neighbourhood surrounding his new house. Sighing, he resumed climbing up to the second floor and went to his bedroom, falling boneless on the couch in the corner. Lying next to a pile of dirty clothes, he ran a hand over his features, feeling helpless. He would have to call Sean.

Question was: now? Or later?

He decided to set for ‘now’, while he still had some energy left, lowered himself to the ground and looked expectantly under the couch. Lost amid the dirt and bizarre items hiding there was, indeed, his mobile. Picking it up, he climbed back on the couch and dialled his mate’s number at home.

‘‘lo?’

‘Sean.’

‘Orli, mate! Been a while! How are yeh?’


	2. Chapter 2

_So I turned the radio on, I turned the radio up, and this woman was singing my song: The lover’s in love, the other’s run away. The lover is crying cause the other won’t stay._

_Stay_, Lisa Loeb

He pondered on the question for a second or two. ‘Been better, Bean, to be honest. Craig just left.’ Craig just slammed the door and I don’t expect him to show up again, but apart from that I’m fucking fine, really, he recited in his head. As though he’d learned his lines by heart.

‘Craig? But isn’t he in town for a few days?’ Sean seemed at least as puzzled as Orlando felt at the moment.

‘Uh uh.’ Orlando sounded defeated.

‘Haven’t yeh just come back from filming?’

Sighed softly, ‘I have.’

‘Did yeh two just had a fight?’

Sighing loudly, the brunette answered Bean carefully. ‘So it would seem.’

‘Hold on, there. Aren’t yeh two supposed *not* to be together?’ Sean’s voice was more concerned by the minute.

‘That was the deal, as far as I could tell, Sean.’ Not that he had respected *his* part of the deal, did he think. Just a fuck, eh? Yes, until he found himself awaiting his meetings with the Kiwi.

‘Look, I’m sorry, mate. D’yeh want me to come over? I could be there in half an hour.

‘No,’ Orlando’s voice was firm, ‘I think I’ll be alright. Just had to get this out of my system if I wanted to sleep at all t’night.’

‘Listen, yeh’re free tomorrow?’

‘Yeah.’ Wasn’t until about an hour ago, mind you, though, he thought, bitterly.

‘‘k. So it’s settled. Breakfast, //sans// hobbits. I’m picking yeh up at nine. Be ready.


	3. Chapter 3

_You ever toss and turn, you’re lying awake and thinking about the one you love?_

_ Baby Did a Bad Thing_, Chris Isaak

~-~-~

The whole Fellowship –minus Gandalf- had been on the Lothlorien set on the first day of shooting the ‘Coming to Lorien’ sequences. It was early in the shooting, back in October of 1999. They had all met at once with the arrogant Galadhrim. As they did not have the opportunity to meet the actor before, the first meeting happened while in character.

Haldir was haughty, disdainful and snobbish, while Boromir was nervous and reckless. Legolas, on the other hand, shined with confidence, which brought even more coldness to Haldir’s incarnation. And even though Haldir bowed and welcomed the Prince with the respect due to an elf of his rank and position, ‘Legolas’ thought the Lorien elf too self-controlling, reserved, cold. And he’d insulted his dwarf!

Later at the canteen, Orlando sat with the hobbits and Sean, talking about the morning’s shoot and what to expect in the afternoon.

‘Man, he’s *so* in character, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a frigid cow in real life as well!’

‘Elijah. . .’

‘No! I mean, have you seen him? Even between takes he wouldn’t let go! Dude, I tried to talk to him and he just snarled at me. Gotta face it, even Viggo doesn’t stay in character that much.’

‘Doodle. . .’ It was Dom’s turn to intervene.

‘*What*?’

‘He’s behind you,’ he added, shaking his head helplessly.

‘What!?’

‘The *frigid cow* is behind you, Mr Baggins.’

Those surrounding Elijah could see him shrink then disappear slowly under the table, until Orlando grabbed him by his brown velvet jacket and hauled him properly on his chair again, the American emitting a ‘oooof’ sound at the same time.

‘Marchwarden! What a surprise. We did not expect that your mighty person would dare eat with us poor fellows.’ The sarcasm in Orlando’s voice barely concealed his own feelings.

‘Thou shoulds’t worry not, my Lord, ‘tis everyone but you and Estel I cannot tolerate.’

‘Well, I shall let thee know that my friends are to be with me and thou shall tolerate them, shoulds’t thou still want the respect of Mirkwood’s heir.’ With this last remark, Orlando got up, turned around and visibly decided he would feel better outside. Glaring at the elf who stood there with a smirk lingering on his full lips, Sean motioned close to the insolent actor.

‘Yeh’ll listen to me carefully, Parker. Yeh hurt Orli and I’ll hurt yeh twice as much. *Thou hurt him and I shall hurt thee twice as much*, if that makes it any clearer. Capice?’ Without waiting for an answer, he got out and sought the blond elf.

‘You.’

‘Me. Look, Orlando, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for my first encounter with the Fellowship to happen this way. I was fucking nervous and with Peter’s idea for Haldir, it was easiest to stay in character for the whole day, thus the ‘incident’ at lunch. I already apologised to the seven others,’ Craig added, repenting.

‘And they forgave you?’

The man in front of him chuckled. ‘Well, they said that if I was to buy a few rounds on Saturday evening. . .’

A small laugh escaped Orlando’s lips. ‘Yeah, I guess there’s no surprise here, is there?’

‘Well, you would know ‘em better than I do.’

‘Yeah, I would.’

The other actor extended his hand. ‘Craig Parker.’

He took it and shook it with vigour. ‘Orlando Bloom. Nice to meet you.’


	4. Chapter 4

Saturday morning, alone and barely feeling. Sitting at home after rocking and a reeling, all night, in a cat fight, with the only one who can make me cry.

_ Never You Mind_, Semisonic

Despite what he’d told Sean, Orlando wasn’t able to sleep that night. He kept on replaying their good times together, their bad times apart, their fights, their nights out at various pubs, their nights in at either of their respective flat or house. He remembered his first encounter with the Kiwi, when Craig’d been such a prick, acting all snobbish and then asking pardon by paying the check of a night out for the whole Fellowship. Some of these memories made him smile, others made him think and a few, cry.

But it was daylight again and he could not linger in bed too long, or Sean would find him in this position and he’d never hear the end of it. He didn’t want to have to endure the Brit fussing over him like a mother-hen for the next few weeks without a break.

So he pushed the sheets with his feet, sat at the edge of the bed, put his feet on the cold wooden floor and sighed heavily. Made his way to the bathroom and got in the shower, turning the water as hot as his skin could tolerate and rested under the powerful stream until he couldn’t feel his skin anymore. Quickly washed his legs, torso, arms, groin and his feet, finishing with his face and hair. Done, he got out of the shower and took a look at himself in the mirror: his skin was wrinkled, lobster-red and, as he touched the tattoo next to his navel, he felt it was still warm. Water temperature must have been too hot, he thought. Like he cared. The time he’d spent in the shower had relaxed him slightly, his shoulders were less tensed, which didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be strained over breakfast. Looking at the clock, he saw he had about ten minutes left before Sean arrived. Running a hand through his still damp hair, he decided the tousled look would do today, he didn’t intend to fight a comb or a brush for a matter of misplaced strands of hair.

Back to the bedroom, he motioned for the couch, where he picked up slightly faded black slacks (to go with the black belt with five rows of studs), then a tight tee-shirt in the waiting-to-be-put-in-the-cupboards pile, and finally made his way to the wardrobe, picking up a dark brown turtleneck that would cling to his fit and muscled upper body. The three items in hands, he threw the whole pack on the unmade bed. Still naked, he crouched to look under the couch, retrieving his keys, mobile (hadn’t he left it *on* the couch last evening?) and wallet, along with a pair of socks, his Converse and a pair of black boxer-briefs. Throwing the new items on the bed he looked at his stereo to find out he had about a minute left before Northern England’s most wanted bachelor would ring the doorbell, or would get in without ringing (or knocking) and would very simply enter his bedroom. This very thought was sufficient to convince him he’d better hurry and get dressed quickly. He managed in record time and was lacing his snickers when he heard someone knock on the door.

‘Comin’!’


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ The Coins Café reference in this chapter comes from ‘Bridget Jones’ the Edge of Reason’ by H. Fielding.

_I’ve come to you cos I need guidance to be true and I just don’t know where I can begin._

_ Criminal_, Fiona Apple

When Sean saw Orlando going down the stairs to welcome him, he couldn’t help but notice that Orli looked like shit. Not that he didn’t look good, the lad was in fact stunning, but his face was screwed up. Somebody needs a hug, he thought, and that’d definitely be my job, smirking at his own remark. When the door finally opened, he enveloped the younger man in a tight embrace. ‘Good seein’ yeh again, Orli,’ he commented. Taking the time to look his fellow Brit from head to toe, Sean added, ‘Bloody hell! You look great!’

Orlando had been expecting anything but *this* remark and Sean’s idea of breaking through his invisible barriers by saying the exact opposite of his thoughts succeeded. Had he said that Orli looked like shit, the young man would’ve firmly denied his state.

‘What do you mean by that?’ Orlando was puzzled. He *knew* he didn’t look great. He felt like shit, his face was ashen with deep, grey rings under his eyes, which were missing their usual brightness. A lovely picture, really.

Sean shrugged. ‘Ok, well, yeh look awful. Happy?’

Orlando smirked. ‘At least, I know you’re telling me the truth this time.’

Sean snorted his answer, ‘Indeed. Yeh haven’t slept last night, have yeh?”

‘Couldn’t rest at all.’

‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Sean shook his head, ‘Are yeh hungry at least?’

‘Well. Yeah. . . sorta. I think?’

‘’k, off with you, we go to Coins Café.’


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ To Sarah, Mirasaui, Jeff and Alex, thanks for the continuous fb.

The days go on and on –and the nights just seem so long. Even food don’t taste that good –drink ain’t doing what it should.

_ When you’re Gone_, Bryan Adams

When they arrived, they picked up a quiet table in the back, where they knew they would be left alone, where nobody would take notice of the two famous celebrities sitting there. They would be able to talk without prying ears listening to all they would say.

After ordering chocolate croissants, berry pancakes, a cappuccino (for Orlando) and an espresso (for Sean), they were alone again.

‘So. . . what happened?’

‘I couldn’t even tell you, mate. We were just, like, talking, you know. And then I mention the hobbits were around and it would be nice to have them over for supper sometime. Just, you know, a kind of reunion?’ Orli sighed, ‘Craig got into a fit, started yelling and left, slamming the door and almost breaking one of Vig’s paintings. And then I called you.’ Orlando shrugged, ‘I mean, we were supposed to be happy to see each other, yeah? And I yelled back. I fucking yelled back, Sean. I guess I was tired or something. You know me, mate, I usually don’t yell, see.’

Sean nodded, a serious expression on his face. This was not looking good. ‘Couldn’t have acted more stupidly, I think.’ Indeed, Sean wasn’t disagreeing with what Orlando had stated. He probably should have let it deflate by itself. But before he could add a comment, they were brought their coffees and breakfasts. Orlando took a sip of his cappuccino, and grimaced visibly.

Sean frowned. ‘Not good?’

‘No, ‘s alright, I think. Try?’

And Sean tried it, only to find out it was in fact quite good and acknowledged the fact to Orlando with a simple nod. Taking the pastries, they started to eat in silence, meditating on what had just been said. Orli made a face, again and put his croissant back on the plate. ‘Tastes of ashes.’

Sean nodded but did not comment. He knew that taste perfectly well. He only had to think of his ex-wives for it to reappear in his mouth. But not anymore. A single thought and the taste and odour of cinnamon and ginger filled his mouth and nose. Taste of tanned skin, muscular but lean body, angular face and blond hair.

Shaking the thought of James from his mind, Sean put a hand on Orli’s. ‘Give him some time, will yeh? Then,’ he shrugged nonchalantly, ‘I can make up with me old promise if he doesn’t stick his head out of his arse.’


	7. Chapter 7

# Count the days I’m gone; forget reaching me by phone: because I promise I’ll be gone for a while. If you know you were never number two. . . Number one is gonna be number one.

_If you want me to stay_, Sly & the Family Stone

He couldn’t help but feel lost. Of course, he only had to hail a taxi and within half an hour, he would be back at his hotel. Not that he knew where he was anyway. He had spent the last two hours walking the streets, thinking of what had just happened with Orlando. He couldn’t understand his own reaction. Why such an outburst? Why the fuck had he slammed the goddamned door?

There had been something going on in Craig’s mind when Orli had mentioned the supper with the hobbits. ‘But I don’t understand,’ he told the stars high in the sky.

He hadn’t wanted to share the Brit.

Of course, he could have justified himself by simply explaining to Orlando that he wished for the both of them to spend some *quality* time alone together; Craig was quite sure Orlando would have been eager to agree with him. When he’d first knocked the door and got in, the younger man had kissed him hungrily, devouring his mouth, running his hands everywhere he could reach while keeping as close to Craig as possible.

But that was not why he’d acted like he did, he finally came to realise.

He’d reacted to the light, to the brightness in Orlando’s eyes when he’d mentioned Elijah, Billy and Dominic. The look of deep love, revered friendship.

He wanted Orli to look at him like that. He wanted his eyes to brighten up like that when someone pronounced his name around Orlando. He wanted more than the looks of lust, of debauchery when his lover had not seen him in a while.

He didn’t like the idea of Orlando sharing his bed, sleeping with someone else. Not anymore.

Of course, there had been a time, while still filming and even after that, when he hadn’t minded cos, well, that was their agreement. ‘Just a fuck,’ he’d told Orlando. They were not together. Call it fuck buddies if you’d want. But they had always been free to see others.

Realisation was slowly dawning on him. He wanted to be with Orli. Not just once in a while when Orli was in Oz or New Zealand or when he himself was in L.A. or London for conventions. He wanted him always. All the time. He wanted Orlando to want him for something steady. To stop openly flirting with these starlets, with the hobbits or with Viggo.

He wondered if this would ever be possible. He was breaking his part of the contract. He’d fallen in love.

Shaking himself, Craig walked out of the park where he had ended up pacing, hailed a taxi and returned to his hotel. This revelation would deserve some thinking and the convention would begin tomorrow. He had to sleep at least a bit. And then he would think.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short notes:  
~ Let’s see the list. The Drow asked for angst [check and double check], a smutfest [finally checked> Go me!] and an happy ending [not checked but then it’s not yet the end]  
~ Matt: here goes the talent *snorts*  
~ Jeff: here goes the length *smirks*

# As I sit here and slowly close my eyes, I take another deep breath, let the air run through my body. Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing and when will we learn to control?

_Serenity_, Godsmack

He shook his head. Of course he wouldn’t be able to sleep. There were too many things running in his head for him to relax enough to find the peace of mind he’d need to drowse even just a bit.

He was, instead, pacing in the room the convention had rented for him. It was cosy. Not what celebs like Elijah would have got, but it was big enough for him. Big enough to pace properly. Perhaps, if he managed to empty his mind long enough, sleep would find him? He stopped, undressed and slipped under the sheets, stark naked as usual.

Slowly closing his eyes, he tried to control his breath, slowing its pace, focusing on breathing first in, then out. And again. And again. There, it was much better. But it still did not resolve his problem.

Why couldn’t he get Orlando out of his mind for one short, plain night? Didn’t he deserve it? He’d been busy of late, now there was this con beginning in the morning and ideally, he would have liked to be top shaped to go there and meet the fans. But he kept re-enacting some of their moments together. . .

~-~-~

‘Craig. . .?’

‘Hmmm.’ As non-committal as Craig could manage in that time and place.

‘Are you awake?’

‘. . .’ Better not to produce even the smallest of sounds.

Ewww.

‘Wet.’ Wow, Parker. That was. . . profound. Continue this way and perhaps you’ll manage to say something interesting at some point! Craig admonished himself.

Orlando chuckled. ‘I know that mate, thanks for letting me know, but I definitely hope my tongue is wet. You wouldn’t want it to have the texture of sandpaper now, would you?’ And with that, the Brit let his tongue run a path from Craig’s jaw down the column of his throat. He stopped, eyeing two hard nipples, which were seemingly begging him to taste them, suckle them, bite them.

‘I want one of those.’

Craig shivered at the husky quality of Orlando’s voice. ‘They are yours, now.’

Orlando did not wait for the invitation to be repeated twice. Taking one between his wanton lips, Orli let his teeth delicately scratch it, nipping it gently. Craig’s nipples were particularly sensitive. A tad too much pressure and pleasure would switch to pain, but apparently, he was getting it right this time, playing with the second one, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. And he heard the Kiwi moan. ‘Orlando, please.’

‘Hmmm?’

‘To hell with foreplay, ‘k? Just take me, will you?’

Orlando’s mouth moved from Craig’s nipple to his ear and he licked the shell, before nibbling on it, whispering, ‘Your wish is my command,’ in the throaty voice he knew had Craig closer to the edge. Orlando himself had been painfully hard from the start, the main reason why he’d taken his lover away from his drowsy state in the first place.

His hand left the Kiwi’s chopping-board-like midriff for the nightstand’s cupboard, opening it and retrieving a tube of lubricant and a few rubbers, putting everything on the bed, within arm’s reach. First, he let his hand run down the cleft of Craig’s arse, neglecting the puckered muscle and moving down a little more, stopping at the piece of skin under Craig’s balls and massaging it.

Craig jerked. ‘HOLY FUCKING CHRIST ORLI!’

Gotcha, the Brit thought with a wicked smile.

The Kiwi found himself shamelessly writhing under Orlando, doing all he was capable of to augment the contact between his skin and the Brit’s, desperate for more of the jolting pleasure he’d felt when Orlando had pressed on his flesh. ‘Fuck it, Orlando, do me, won’t you?’

No matter how much he would have liked to tease his lover some more, Orlando was himself beginning to feel the need to get off and, thinking about it for a second or two, achieving orgasm still sheathed in Craig’s warmth wouldn’t be a bad thing.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing the Kiwi’s ear as he sopke, ‘Don’t worry, Craig. I’m gonna do you like never before.’ He paused for a second, thinking. ‘How do you want me to take you?’ He moved away a second, to give Craig the space to reposition himself on his hands and knees. ‘On all fours, eh? Well, you look just. . . decadent. Did I ever tell you?’

‘Stop.bloody.talkin’.’

Orlando did not answer him and smeared some lube on his fingers, going straight for Craig’s hole this time. Easily slipping one finger in, he rapidly added a second one, carefully stretching the guarding muscle, and a third one, scissoring his fingers and then curving them to cautiously rub the tiny gland. Craig hissed with the pleasure of the contact, forgetting all about the intruding fingers that were easing the incoming passage of a much larger and longer shaft. ‘In me. Now.’

Orlando would not be told twice. Retrieving his fingers, he took one of the condoms, ripped the foil open and rolled the latex barrier on his cock, covering his throbbing erection with lube. The tip of his shaft was attracted immediately to the rosy entrance, resting on it for a few seconds, Orlando letting Craig be aware of his own desire. ‘Ready?’

And without waiting for an answer, he dove in, stretching the muscle and sheathing himself completely inside. Craig could feel the spasms from the protesting hole but the small pain that accompanied the gesture did not bother him in the least, not with the pressing of Orlando’s cock on his prostate moments later, as he slowly withdrew from Craig’s tight passage. ‘Bloody hell!’

Grunt. ‘Like that, eh?’

But before he could utter an answer, Orlando moved over the gland again and all he could do was moan to express his gratefulness. Orlando’s pace was gradually increasing, withdrawing up to the head before slamming back, hard, inside the willing body under him, as Craig was shamelessly moving in sync with him to welcome the shaft deeper within. Craig’s neglected cock was screaming its agony by leaking an impressive amount of pre-come and he was about to take it in hand when Orlando stopped his gesture, grabbed the neglected member in his deft hand and. . .

~-~-~

. . . Craig came screaming a name, his fingers encircling his now deflating cock.

Of course, he was alone.

He’d managed to fall asleep.

Only to have a wet dream about one of his best times with Orlando.

And then waking up between sticky linens and stomach. Hurrah.

He looked at the alarm clock. 3:30. Yay. This would be a long, long night.


	9. Chapter 9

Restless tonight, cos I wasted the light. Between both these times, I drew a really thin line. It’s nothing I planned—and not that I can. But you should be mine across that line.

_ One Thing_, Finger Eleven

This is a huge mistake, he keeps telling himself. A bloody fucking huge mistake. What if someone recognises him? After all, he’s at a bloody con where ‘Lord of the Rings’ fans go to meet the actors, stuntmen and other creators of the movies. But he can’t help it so he disguises himself as well as he can, hoping no one will notice him, being overly focused on Billy, Dom and Craig.

Craig.

The very reason of Orlando’s presence.

He has to see. He has to see if Craig looks as shitty as he does. He has to see if he can still read the Kiwi’s body language and decide if he’s tensed, relaxed, alert or bored or whatever. He has to get gather as much information as he can. Perhaps he will call Dom and Billy later to ask them how he was all day-long. He looks at Craig from afar and notices that his eyes are not as bright as they usually are, his smile is perhaps a bit forced and there’s a sinew or a muscle twitching near the left corner of his mouth. It’s not the first time he sees that specific twitching. Craig’s tired.

And Orli starts to worry about the man he fucking cares for, even though it’s forbidden. Fuck buddies don’t worry about such things, especially not after the buddy left slamming the door the previous night. Did he mention he doesn’t give a flying fuck about the bloody rules anymore? He’s crossed the line a long time ago and he started to care, to worry. And he certainly won’t be able to stop on command today.

After breakfast with Sean this morning, all he really wants is to be given a second chance with Craig. Course he knows that Craig’s the one who left, but he likes the idea that if he cannot tell his mate about his feelings with words, he could be given one last chance to show him with the use of his body. He knows how cliché it sounds, but it’s the only thing he’s been able to come up with since his brain turned to jelly last night.

He stays at the con a little more but he soon realises the line is thinner and that if he doesn’t leave now, there will effectively be some people recognising him and he doesn’t want to create a mess others would have to deal with.

He leaves the building, still thinking.

He’s unsure of what he should have read in Craig’s reaction the previous night. More exactly, it’s the ‘whys’ that are bugging him. Why did he leave? Why at the mention of the hobbits? Why did he shout? Why? Why? Why?

He wants Craig back. He will take whatever Craig is willing to give. Such is the fate of those who love, he thinks. He’ll have Craig as a fuck buddy, as a friend, as a lover, or as anything else— just as long as Craig will be there, with him.

But he’s scared. He’s so bloody fucking scared. What if Craig is able to decode his body language and decides he doesn’t want to have an in-love Orlando by his side?

Orlando Bloom is fucking scared.


	10. Chapter 10

_Always keepin' safe inside where no one ever had a chance to penetrate a break in. Let me tell you some have tried but I would slam the door so tight that they could never get in. Suddenly it occurred to me the reason for the run and hide had totalled my existence. I just gotta break through the door._  
_  
Gotta Knock a Little Harder_, Yoko Kanno

The day at the convention literally exhausted him. No matter how little sleep he’s had the previous night, the event in itself is enough to wear anyone out. Indeed, he only has to take a look at Billy and Dom, who threw themselves at the fridge as soon as they were done, to notice they are as dead as he is. Not that he knows if the hobbits slept at all the previous night, though.

‘So, Craig, how is Orli doin’?’

Jesus, Mary and fucking Joseph. He’d totally forgotten having mentioned the blokes he was supposed to see Orlando last night. Shit.

‘Erm, well,’

‘’Well’!? C’mon Craig, you can do better! You’re the only one who’s seen him since he got back from filming!’ Billy’s teasing tone showed there was no malice in his intentions, but still Craig felt as though he had to defend himself.

‘Look, Billy, he seemed to be fine, ‘k? We didn’t talk that much,’

A snort from Dominic was the only answer he got for a few minutes, the time it took for the Brit to grab some more beers from the fridge in the dressing-room. ‘Not that with the two of you horny as hell and happy to *reunite* you would have had any time to speak at all now, would you?’ Dom added.

Craig could only look at his feet. He dared not answer.

‘. . . Or perhaps not. Craig?’

‘It’s nothing, Billy, really.’

‘Craig—‘

‘Look I told you it was ok, right? Things will sort out somehow.’

Billy walked until he was standing less than a foot away from him and sternly put his hands on the Kiwi’s shoulders, pushing backward until Craig felt a couch behind his knees, reluctantly sitting on it.

‘Now. What happened?’

Craig shrugged. ‘Nothing much. Went to see Orlando, and left quickly.’

But that was not enough for his two friends. They knew there was something wrong going on. ‘Craig, you either tell me and Bills or I throw you out of this room and call Orli himself right away and don’t give a living fuck about your version anymore. So?’

He sighed. There would be no easy way out for him. ‘I just, panicked, ‘k? And I left in a fit. I dunno, mates. It just happened.’

‘Are you sure—’

‘Look, guys, I know you wanna help, but this this doesn’t even have to do with Orlando. Not this time. It’s all about me. I gotta fix this myself.’

Dom and Billy sent each other glances filled with indecision and wonder. But then, both Orli and Craig were adults. Sharing one last look, they shrugged in a non-committal manner. Not that Craig was looking at them anyway.

‘Fix it, Parker, and do what’s best. Just know we’re around, and everyone else is too, ‘k?’

Craig looked up at the two of them. ‘I’ll try.’

He just didn’t know what to do. Only that he wanted to see Orlando. But this would have to wait until the con was over. Emotional turmoil wasn’t the greatest state of mind to meet the fans and they deserved better than a mooning Craig. He would try to meet Orlando the day after tomorrow, he decided.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Coming close to the end of the journey, at last. Hope you’ll all have enjoyed the ride.

Here I stand, head in hands; I turned my face to the wall. Hey! You’ve got to hide your love away.

_ You’ve got to Hide Your Love Away_, Pearl Jam

After another restless thirty-six hours, Orlando Bloom is not too proud to announce he is getting closer and closer to something alike delirium. Well, he actually has no one to announce it to, but the idea is there anyway.

He knew that today’d been the last day of the con. That was a fact. He knew that if Craig didn’t give news before midnight, Sean would contact everyone he could and arrange a *meeting* with Craig, to remind him of his old vow. He knew that neither Dom nor Billy had contacted him since he’d arrived. He knew he fucking had feelings for Craig that were driving him insane at the moment. But he didn’t know a shit about Craig himself. Was he leaving tonight? Was he staying for a few days? A few weeks? Had his plans now changed? The fuck if he knew what was going on in the brunette’s head.

It was supper time, he didn’t feel like cooking and he knew that if he dared look in his fridge, the food that was left in would probably talk to him and beg to be thrown in the bin. And he didn’t particularly felt like talking to his food at the moment, so take out it was. He called the Erawan and after placing his order, slouched in a stuffed armchair, turning the television on and watched the news blindly, blinking his eyes once in a while to moisten them a bit.

A knock on the door. Food must have arrived. That had been quick. He took his wallet from the table next to the door, taking some notes to cover the price of the food and an extra for the swift service. Put on a smile for the guy waiting outside and opened the door.

Bloody hell and please let the devil fuck all archangels, cherubs and seraphs in the damn heaven.

The smile on Orlando’s face froze instantly and there was a flicker of emotions in his eyes. It did not last long. A minuscule nanosecond. Luckily enough, the barriers were up almost immediately. And so, it was with no surprise that Craig Parker was received on the porch of Orlando Bloom’s house with a snarl. A quite vicious one to say the least.

‘What in the sodding hell do you want Parker, you fucking cunt?’

Ouch, Craig thought. It didn’t look that good.

Not that Orlando didn’t want to have Craig back in his life. Far from it. But, really, he’d spent the last day and a half tormenting himself, enacting different scenarios in his mind, worrying about where the fuck Craig could be, what he would be doing. And there, just as he was planning on a numb evening of self-pitying, there shows the object of his affections.

Fuck.him.

‘Orlando. . . Can I get in for starters?’

Without a word, Orlando moved slightly to the right, letting the man inside and closing the door soundly behind him. Most of his anger had already faded, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. He hated those feelings. First, he needed to compose himself. Still not talking to the Neo-Zealander, Orlando put the notes back on the table and made his way to the kitchen, risking the previously mentioned conversation with his food. He was in dire need of alcohol and with his empty stomach, he knew he could only indulge in a beer or two. Nothing stronger. Taking a deep breath, he opened the fridge, took the first bottle he saw and closed the door. Mc.Ewan’s Scotch, 8.0%. That’d do nicely, he decided.

Looking from the threshold of the room, Craig could not help but notice, ‘Were you afraid of something jumping you, Orli?’

‘It’s Orlando for you Parker, until you convince me of the contrary.’ Orlando’s voice was as cold as he could muster in the present situation. He opened the bottle and poured its content in a Ritzenhoff pint glass that Dom had given him for his last birthday. ‘So, care to tell me why you’re here?’

Craig gathered his courage and threw himself into the speech of his life. The one that, if a success, would get him his Orli back. And without taking the time to breathe in or out, he spoke. And spoke. And spoke some more. And, with a flicker of hope, resumed talking again, because, well, he’d seen something in Orlando’s eyes. He had to hold onto it.

Orlando was torn inside. He listened to Craig’s words of remorse, or regret, of comprehension and even of his lack of understanding. He’d seen things in the older man’s eyes that he’d never dared to dream about. Well, that was not totally accurate, he’d actually had, but he would never admit it out loud to anyone. Shaking himself, he downed what was left of his beer and licked his lips thoughtlessly.

The movement stopped Craig instantly. That pink tongue. The deep, brown eyes, the dark, curly hair, the fine moustache and goatee, the long limbs. It used to be his. He wanted it all back, but he also wanted more this time around. He wanted Orlando’s soul, his smiles, the lines around his eyes, the glints of happiness in the Brit’s eyes. He wanted the whole package deal.

‘Craig?’

Ooops. Get back on track Parker!

‘Anyway, Orlando, what I meant is. . . it’s just that—’

‘Craig.’

He sighed. Down to the important words, you moron! There is no other way. ‘Look, I care for you Orlando, more than I used to at the beginning, when we settled the rules, see? And, well—’

His speech was interrupted once more. Still Orlando’s fault. Though it was not a tongue that was involved this time. But the Brit’s eyes. Orlando wasn’t hiding anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Last part of The Drow’s birthday gift. Overall, the lady asked for Orli/Craig, with angst, smut and a happy ending. I think that covers it all. Talk ‘bout getting what you want for your b-day.  
~ Thanks to Alex, Drow, Morm, Shel, Gwen, Nancy, Sarah/skon, Renn Wench, Jeff, eden, Mirasaui, Vicky, Myr, Ninie, Muffin and Emily. Your comments/support/whatever have meant a lot to me. ~ Laeb xXx

I want to taste the taste of being face to face with common grace. We sit alone in the sun and I wrote a letter to you, getting over myself: ‘Your smiling eyes are like nothing I have ever seen…’

_ This Velvet Glove_, Red Hot Chili Peppers

Craig was in awe. That was exactly what he’d sought. Orlando was radiating, his smile bright, his eyes filled with that light he’d wanted for himself. ‘Orli, I—’

_*Dring_*

There you go. How to break the mood in one easy step, a courtesy of. . .

Crap.

Sean bloody Bean. The machine immediately took the call and soon a familiar Yorkshire drawl could be heard. ‘Hey Orli, mate. . . Yeh’re in there? Look, I wanted to know. . . has he called you? Has he tried to explain or d’yeh just want me to skin him alive? If that bastard—’

*Click*

‘Sean.’

‘Orlando. You ‘k?’

‘Yeah, I guess I am.’

‘Yeh sure?’

‘Yeah, mate, I’m ok. More than all right, even.’ Orlando smiles warmly at Craig.

‘Craig’s there.’ It was more an affirmation than a question, of course.

Orlando only nodded, but he felt as though Sean’d seen him anyway, Craig was still looking at him with worry in his eyes. He remembered the old promise Sean’d made. How could he have ever forget? Orli mouthed ‘relax’ to his friend, even though the Kiwi didn’t look completely reassured.

‘You call me later, Orli, ‘k? You owe me a breakfast at Coins Café.’

‘I will. Later, Sean.’

‘Later, mate.’

Orlando hung the phone gently. ‘Should I fear for my life?’

‘Don’t think so.’

‘My health?’

‘Neither.’

‘Orlando. . .’

The Brit quietly made his way to his lover, snuggling close in the protective arms. ‘Yes?’

‘I’m sorry. I broke the rules I’d established but I just felt—’

‘I know.’

‘You don’t despise me?’

‘How could I?’

Craig chuckled, ‘Well, if you want some reasons, we can call Sean back, he’ll be delighted to give us his help. . .’

Orlando decided not to argue and settled for kissing the bloke instead, shutting him up at the same time. Gentle at first, the kiss heated quickly and soon enough, they were groping each other’s body with all the hunger of months spent apart, of torn out feelings, of the last few days’ events; their bodies screaming for touches, caresses, licks, nibbles. Hands were quickly discarding clothes and soon, the men were facing each other, naked and glorious, shinning with that new-found confidence that they might not be alone, after all. Extending a shaking hand for Orli to grab, Craig gave him his own radiant smile and, taking the Brit’s moist, sticky hand, lead him toward the bedroom.

At last.

*

## Hours later, Craig’s eyes were still wide open. As were Orlando’s. His head was resting in the crook of the Kiwi’s shoulder, their breaths slow and deep. They didn’t know it, of course, but all they were able to think about was the moment they’d finally seen the smile in each other’s eyes. Craig was still a bit insecure, of course –after all, he’d been the arse in that story—but it would lessen with time. Tightening his grip around the brunette, he kissed the top of the curly head.

‘Baby?’

‘Yes, Orli?’

‘How long will you be around?’

‘I cleared my schedule for the next three weeks and I intend to spend them in this bed with you, why’s that?’

‘Well, we still have to take that lunch with the Hobbits. . .’ Craig could feel Orlando’s smile widen against his chest.

‘Cheeky bastard.’

‘Thank you. Love you, too.’

‘Who said I loved you?’

‘You do.’

Craig smiled. ‘Yeah, I do.’

~*~ La Fin ~*~


End file.
